


Of broken vases

by Solvejg



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Domestic Violence, M/M, Public Humiliation, Suicidal Thoughts, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solvejg/pseuds/Solvejg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all ends in the entrance hall, with laughters clattering between the white walls, a pile of books scattered at his feet, and a hundred pairs of eyes alterning between his unmoving face and the giant screen on the wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of broken vases

It all ends in the entrance hall, with laughters clattering between the white walls, a pile of books scattered at his feet, and a hundred pairs of eyes alterning between his unmoving face and the giant screen on the wall.

Xavier is standing in a crack in the pack of students, his arms dangling along his sides, his feautures inert and his cheeks rapidly taking on a sickly white. His eyes are wet and rimmed with red. It makes the blue of his eyes stands out unnaturally on the chalkiness of his complexion.

Shaw and his friends are staring at him with mirth, some with their cellphones in their hands - their single round shiny black eyes fixed on him. Azazel is holding his ribs as he guffaws, Emma dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, her lips stretched into a satisfied sneer which wrinckles the smooth skin of the perfect human mask she wears as a face. Erik is there too – alongside Shaw, his hands in his pockets, a smirk threatening the corner of his mouth, his eyes on him.

The Xavier on the wide screen hung above the lockers moans and sobs as his head almost hits the headboard, driven by the violent thrusts of the man murmuring atop him _"come on come on come on come on..."_ There is something hypnotic in the back-and-forth movement on the sceen, like grotesque waves on the sand, punctuated with the wet and obscene noises of coupling.

Someone in the crowd yells something, and Xavier should look horrified and ashamed by now, _everyone is looking at him_ , but he doesn't bat an eyelash. His eyes are glued to the video, in which his two-nights younger self is being thoroughly fucked, his eyes watering, his teeth desperatly biting his lower lip, his hands wrapped around the man's wrists, as if holding for dear life, murmuring a mantra of _"oh please oh please oh please"_ punctuated by broken sobs.

The departure of a few students, maybe unconfortable by Xavier's silence, does not abate the general amusement which is now deafening. Someone starts to throw things at him, _you're an easy target, Charles, always have been_ , and others follow him. Xavier still does not bulge as his hair and shirt get drenched by a spurt of milk. When the face of the Xavier on the screen contorts slightly, releasing a throaty moan announcing his incoming climax, Shaw begins to applaud wildly, jabbing Erik with his elbow, murmuring into his ear. The others immediatly follow his lead and the racket only increases.

Only then does Xavier turn away and walks stiffly out of the entrance hall, leaving behind him the thacking of the front doors and the books he was holding on the floor. He walks out of the school, even though it's still eight in the morning, his steps even and awkward, a slight tremor in his knees, his fists clenched against his thighs.

Erik's giant face appears on the screen as he turns off the camera, with behind him the discernible form of Xavier's sleeping body on a bed.

Shaw clasps him on the back.

Erik looks at Xavier's retreating back and ignores the cold twisting he feels in his chest.

 

***

Xavier doesn't come to school the next day. Nor the day afterwards. His only friends at school, McCoy, is glaring at anybody that approaches him, not that anybody really tries. Teachers have heard of what happened, but Shaw is really fucking good at destroying evidence, and Xavier's parents haven't called to complain.

Xavier's absence hangs heavy in every class his seat is vacated. Everybody pretends that they were not there that morning in the entrance hall. That they did not yell and applaude. _Poor boy, really_ , someone whispers in the corridor. _He must feel so bad_. Erik knows for a fact that he uploaded the pictures on twitter. Hashtag gross. Hashtag lmfao. Hashtag looser. 

The worst is, nobody has changed its behaviour towards Erik, with maybe the exception of McCoy. A guy he even talked to before highfived him between two classes. The cold twist doesn't go away.

 

***

Xavier comes back to school two weeks afterwards, his right arm in a sling, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. He never looks up when he walks in the corridors, always watching the tip of his shoes, a thick scarf wrapped around his neck. His clothes seem even baggier than before, hanging pitifully around his numb limbs, and McCoy sticks faithfully to his side, even though it seems that Xavier never really answers tohis attempts at discussion. Erik looks at them the way he looked at the vase he had dropped at his aunt's house. With shame and a feeling of no-return that leaves him numb in the chest.

 


End file.
